Born Evil
by Hailey Ambrose
Summary: U.S.diplomat John Cena substitutes an orphan for his own stillborn baby in order to spare his unknowing wife.But after a series of grotesque murders and dire warnings, the Cenas come to the chilling realization that their child is evil.Based on the Omen.
1. Chapter 1

In Honor of Halloween, this is my newest story. Hope you enjoy. Thanks to RatedrKjErIcHo for all the help.

Based on the Movie: The Omen

Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or the wrestlers in this story. I own only my ocs. This story is fiction and is to be taken that way. No copyright infringment intended.

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><p>It happened in a millisecond. A movement in the galaxies that should have taken eons occurred in the blinking of an eye. At the Cape Holden observatory a young astronomer sat stunned, reaching an instant too late to activate the camera that might have reordered it: the splintering of three constellations that produced the dark, glowing star. From Capricorn, Cancer, and Leo pieces had suddenly flown, finding each other with magnetic certainty, melding into a pulsating galactic ember. It grew brighter now and the constellation shuddered—or was it trembling hands on the eyepiece as the astronomer struggled to stifle his confused cry?<p>

He feared he was alone with it, but in fact he was not. For from the very bowels of the earth there came a distant sound. It was the sound of voices; human, yet not, growing in devout cacophony with the heightening potency of the star. In caves, basements, and open fields they had gathered; midwives to the birth, some twenty thousand strong. With hands joined and heads bowed, their voices rose until the vibration could be heard and felt everywhere. It was the sound of the OHM, ringing upward to the heavens and inward to the pre-biblical core of the earth.

It was the sixth month, the sixth day, the sixth hour. The precise moment predicted by the Old Testament when earth history would change. The wars, the turmoil of recent centuries had been mere rehearsals, a testing of the climate to determine when mankind would be ready to be led. Students of the Bible had seen it too, the falling into place of biblical symbols that heralded the event that was now at hand. In the form of the Common Market, the Holy Roman Empire had risen, and with the statehood of Israel the Jews had returned to the Promised Land. This, coupled with worldwide famine and the disintegration of international economic structure, demonstrated more than a mere coincidence of events. Clearly it was a conspiracy of events. The Book of Revelations had predicted it all.

As, high in the sky, the black star grew brighter, the chant grew louder, and the basalt center of the planet reverberated with its power. Within the hollowed-out ruins of the ancient city of Meggido, Mark Callaway could feel it, and wept; his scrolls and tablets useless now. And above him on the desert floor outside of Israel the night shift of archaeological students paused in their work, their dirt-sifters falling silent as the ground beneath them began to tremble.

In his first class seat aboard the 747 bound from Washington to Rome, John Cena felt it too and routinely fastened his seat belt, preoccupied with what awaited him below. Even if he had known the reason for the sudden turbulence, it would have been too late. For at that moment, in the basement of the Ospedale Generale in Rome, a stone crushed the head of the child that was meant to be his.

He sat in his seat thinking about the telegram he'd received in Washington. It was now twelve hours old and by now whatever had happened was over. He would find Alison fulfilled at last, in a hospital bed nursing their newborn child or in a state of hopeless despair at having lost it once again. Unlike the other two pregnancies that had ended after just a few months, this one had gone all the way to eight. And if this time something went wrong, he knew that Alison would be lost.

They had been together since they were twenty and even then her instability was plain. The haunted eyes, begging for someone to protect her; the role of protector suiting his needs as well, it was this that formed the very core of their relationship. She had sought help after a cutting incident; a psychiatrist who merely sat in bland silence. She quit him after a month, deciding that all she needed was a child.

Alison got pregnant immediately and the three months of that first pregnancy were the best they had ever known. Alison looked and felt beautiful and even traveled to the Far East at her husband's side. The pregnancy ended in the lavatory of an airplane, blue water washing away her hope as she cried.

The second pregnancy took a year to accomplish and for five and a half month hope again bloomed. This time the pains began in a supermarket and Alison doggedly continued her shopping, trying to deny it until it could be denied no longer. It was a blessing, they said, because the fetus was impaired, but this only furthered her despair and she slipped into a depression that took six months to relieve. It was the third time now and John knew it was the last. If something went wrong this time, it would be the end of her sanity.

The plane landed and John was taken quickly through customs into a waiting car. It was the nicest part of coming back to Rome, for here he was something of a celebrity. As the assistant to the President's economic advisor, he was also the assistant to the chairman of the World Economy Conference which had been moved from Zurich to Rome. His godfather was the President of the United States. John's family had been very rich. His grandfather had made tons during the war. The estimate of John's personal wealth was close to five hundred million dollars but it was unverifiable and in truth John himself did not know. To account would have meant to pause and John Cena was in constant motion.

He looked out at Rome as he made his way to the hospital. He texted Hunter from Washington and told him that Allie had gone into labor and he was on his way home to Rome. Hunter said okay and he would see him when he got there. Hunter was his boss and the chairman of the World Economy Conference.

John had no idea what awaited him in Rome. He only hoped Allie was okay.

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	2. Chapter 2

As the car stopped short in front of the darkened Ospedale Generale, Father Michael Cole gazed down from his second-floor office window, knowing in an instant that the man bounding out was John Cena. He recognized him from the photos in newspaper. Cena was tall, strong and handsome. It was satisfying that John looked every inch what he should. Plainly, the choice had been right. Drawing his robes around him, the priest stood and without expression moved quietly to the door. John's footsteps could already be heard below, entering, echoing as they moved vigorously across the bare, tiled floor.

"Mr. Cena?"

Below him, John turned, his eyes searching upward in the darkness. "Yes?"

"I am Father Cole. I sent you…"

"Yes. I got your telegram. I left as soon as I could."

The priest moved into a shaft of light and started down the stairwell. There was something in his movement, the silence that surrounded it, that signaled all was not well.

"Is… the child born?" John asked.

"Yes."

"My wife…"

"She is resting."

The priest was at the base of the stairwell now and his eyes met John's, trying to prepare him, to soften the blow.

"Something's gone wrong." John said to him.

"The child is dead."

There came an awesome silence, the empty tiled corridors seeming to ring with it, as John stood paralyzed, as though hit by a body blow.

"It breathed but a moment." The priest whispered. "Then breathed no more."

The priest watched, unmoving, as the man before him walked stiffly to a bench and sat for a long moment, then bowed his head and wept. The sound of weeping echoed through the corridors and the priest waited his turn to speak.

"Your wife is safe." He said. "But she will be unable to bear another child."

"It will destroy her." John whispered.

"You could adopt."

"She wanted her own." John said. "God, I'm afraid of what this might do to her."

In the silence that followed, the priest stepped forward. His features were coarse but composed, the eyes filled with compassion. Only a trickle of perspiration betrayed the tension hidden within.

"You love her very much." The priest said.

"Yes, I love her more than anything." John nodded.

"Then you must accept God's plan."

From the shadows of a darkened corridor, an aged nun appeared, her eyes imploring the priest to join her. They came together, whispering for a moment in Italian before she departed and the priest turned again to John. There was something in his eyes that made John stiffen.

"God works in mysterious ways, Mr. Cena." And he held out his hand. John, rising, was compelled to follow.

The maternity ward was three floors up and they took a back stairwell, an avenue little used and lit only by bare bulbs. The ward itself was dark and clean, the smell of babies renewing the sense of loss that throbbed like a hammer deep inside John's stomach. Moving to a glass partition, the priest paused, waiting as John hesitantly approached and gazed down at what lay on the other side. It was a child. Newborn. A child of angelic perfection. With thick dark hair tousled above deep-set blue eyes it stared upward, instinctively finding John's eyes.

"It is an orphan." The priest said. "Its mother died as your own child…in the same hour." Confused John turned to him. "Your wife needs a child. The child needs a mother."

John slowly shook his head. "We wanted our own."

"If I may suggest…it very much resembles…" And John looked again, realizing it was true. The child's coloration was the same as Alison's, the features resembled his own. "Your wife need never know." And from John's sudden silence, he took heart. John's hand had begun to tremble and the priest took it, infusing him with confidence.

"Is… it a healthy child?" John asked in a trembling voice.

"Perfect in every way."

"Are there relatives?"

"None." Around them the empty corridors hissed with silence, stillness so dense that it assaulted the ears. "I am in full authority here. There will be no records..no one would know."

John averted his eyes, desperate with indecision. "Could I….see my own child?"

"What's to be gained? Give your love to the living." The priest implored. And from behind the glass partition the infant lifted both arms toward John as if in a gesture of desire. "For the sake of your wife, Signor, God will forgive this deception. And for the sake of this child who will otherwise have no home…"

His voice fell to silence, for no more needed to be said. "On this night Mr. Cena… God has given you a son."

In the night skies above them the black star reached its apex, suddenly shattered by an angry bolt of lightning. And in her hospital bed Alison Cena thought she was awakening naturally, unaware of the injection she had been given just moments before. She had suffered ten hours of labor and had felt the final contractions, but she slipped into unconsciousness before she could see the child. Now, as her faculties returned, she was gripped with fear but fought to calm herself as she heard footsteps approaching from the corridor outside. The door swung open and she saw her husband. And in his arms was a child.

"Who is this?" She asked with a smile.

"Our son." John said his voice trembling with emotions. "We've got our son."

She reached out and took the baby and wept with joy. And as he watched through blurred eyes, John thanked God for showing him the way.

"He looks like you." She smiled before gently kissing their son on the head. "He's perfect."

John looked lovingly at her and whispered to her. "Allie, I love you."

"I love you too." She smiled back.

In that moment, John knew he had made the right decision. No one would ever know the truth and Allie and the baby would be happy.

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	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed and alerted this story. You guys are awesome! Hope you continue to like it.

This story is in honor of Halloween.

Based on the movie: The Omen.

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><p>The Cenas were both of Catholic parentage, but neither of them was religious. Alison was given to occasional prayer and visits to church on Christmas and Easter, but more out of superstition and sentiment than a belief in Catholic dogma. John himself was lapsed and did not take seriously, as Allie did the fact that their son Lucien was never christened. It wasn't that they didn't try. Immediately after his birth they dutifully brought the infant to church, but so abject was his terror upon entering the cathedral that they cut the ceremony short. The priest had followed them out to the street with water cupped in his hands, warning that if the child were not christened he could never enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but John refused to continue, seeing clearly that the infant was in a state of terror. To satisfy Alison they improvised a ceremony at home, but she was never totally reassured, intending one day to return with Lucien and make sure it was done right. That day never came, for they were swept into a whirlwind of distractions, and the christening was forgotten.<p>

John remained Hunter's assistant in Rome. Lucien grew more each day and was more adorned by his parents. Life became a beautiful dream, for Alison especially, so perfect it was almost frightening. Now that Allie had her child, she had everything, including her husband's adoration, and she blossomed like an orchid; fragile, yet in full flower, pleasing everyone with her freshness and beauty.

To entertain Lucien when Alison was occupied with official chores, there was a young blond named Kelly, no more than a child herself, but a delight to everyone and an indispensable addition to the family. She was bright and full of play, and adored Lucien as though he were her own. They would often spend hours together, Lucien toddling after her.

The boy was growing into an artist's rendering of the ideal child. In the three years since his birth the promise of physical perfection had been fulfilled, and his health and strength were phenomenal too. He had a kind of composure, a contentment that one rarely sees in the young and visitors occasionally found themselves unnerved by his gaze. If intelligence could be measured by attention span, then he was a genius, for he would often sit for hours, positioned on a small wrought-iron bench beneath an apple tree, his eyes trained on the people who came and went, absorbing every detail of what took place before him. John Morrison, the chauffeur, occasionally took him out on errands, enjoying his silent presence, amazed by the child's fascination with everything that went on in the world.

"He's like a little man from Mars." JoMo once remarked to his wife. "Like he was sent here to study the human race."

"He's the apple of his mother's eye." Melina responded. "Wouldn't do you no good to be heard saying that."

"I'm not trashing him. Just that he is a bit unusual."

The only other troubling aspect about Lucien was that he rarely used his voice. Joy was expressed with a wide, dimpled grin; sorrow with strangely silent tears. Alison once mentioned this to her physician, but the doctor was most reassuring. He told the story of a child who never uttered a word until he was eight years old and then only to remark that he didn't like mashed potatoes. When, in amazement, the mother asked him why, if he could speak, he'd never spoken before, the child replied that up until now she'd never served mashed potatoes.

Alison had laughed at the story and relaxed about Lucien. After all, Albert Einstein didn't speak until he was four, and Lucien was only three and a half. Aside from being quiet and observant, he was in every way the perfect child, the appropriate issue of the perfect marriage of John and Alison Cena.

Alison arrived at the embassy and headed upstairs to see John. She asked the Marine Guard downstairs to help her with the stroller. He carried it up the stairs while Allie carried Lucien. She thanked him and headed to the desk.

"Hello Mrs. Cena and how is young Lucien there?"

"He's fine. Is my husband available?" She asked signing in.

"Yes, ma'm, he's expecting you." The marine said to her.

"Allie." Hunter said walking up and hugging her. "We have some great news.

"Hi, Hunter." She said with a smile. "What news?"

Hunter looked at his watched. "Well, I have to go. I will let John tell you."

John took Lucien from her and kissed his head and put him in the stroller. "So, how was your Italian lesson?"

"Potete aiutarmi a trovare il mio portafoglio?" She said in Italian.

"I will remember that if my wallet gets stolen." He laughed.

"Okay, I'm only on book one."

"Well, the good news is you might not have to open book two."

"What?"

"Hunter has been name Ambassador to Great Britain."

"That's great."

"We're going with him. He's made me deputy, Allie."

"Oh my God, John. London." She said hugging him. "That's wonderful."

"It's going to be great, Allie." He said hugging her tightly.

Hunter was late to an appointment and the car sat in traffic. Hunter sighed. He looked at his watch and it said six after three. "Can you get around at all?"

"No sir I'm sorry." His chauffeur said to him.

While Hunter was waiting for the traffic to move, a homeless person was pulling a wheel by a truck that was park. The wheel hit the truck which caused it to move. The truck was then barreling at the car Hunter was in. He didn't have time react when the truck hit. The gas tank on the truck busted and Hunter was soon covered in gasoline. The car quickly caught fire and he tried to get out of the car but the door jam and he couldn't get to the other side. He had no escape as the car burned.

Three Months Later:

John sat in car and read the paper about Hunter's death and his appointment to the Ambassador to Great Britain. At 31, he was the youngest one. He felt horrible about getting it because Hunter was dead. He looked up at the estate as he pulled in. Allie had told him to meet her there. She wanted him to see the house she had picked out for them.

"Ready to see the house." Allie said when he stepped out of the car.

"Yes." He smiled and took her hand.

John and Allie walked into the spacious estate in London. John looked around at it.

"I told them we would take it." Allie said to him. "Do you like it?"

"It's big." John said to her.

"Bad big?"

"Just big."

"It reminded me of Hunter's place in Rome." John sighed and walked over to a bench and sat down.

"What does that mean?" John asked her.

"Nothing." She said sitting down beside him. "I thought you would like it."

"It's not the house, I just feel like I'm walking on Hunter's grave." John said sadly.

Allie turned to her husband. "Hey, you got this job because you earned it."

"And it had nothing to do with the fact that I'm the president's godson."

"The president's sister and two senators wanted that job but he gave it to you. What does that tell you?" She said looking at him.

"That I love you." He smiled before kissing her.

"So we'll take it."

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Didn't think so." He laughed as she rested her head on his shoulder. "It is big."

"A little bit."

Please review! I want to hear what you think about this one.


	4. Chapter 4

Two years later:

The next two years went by fast and before they knew it, Lucien was five. Allie loved taking him to the nearby park. She decided to take him a day before his birthday. She was pushing him on the swing when her cell phone went off. She turned her back to Lucien to answer it only to find no one on the phone. She turned back to Lucien and found him gone.

"Lucien." She yelled. "Lucien."

She ran around the park looking for him. "Lucien." She looked at the pond and saw the bubbles coming from beneath. "Oh no." She quickly ran toward the pond.

"Boo." Lucien said jumping out from behind a tree.

"Don't ever do that to me again?" She said hugging him.

"Did I scare you mommy? I didn't mean too." He said in a sweet voice to her.

"No, I just didn't know where you were. I worry about you." She said hugging him tight.

Allie took his hand and they headed back to the main house. She was grateful he was okay. She was so scared when she couldn't find him. She couldn't lose her son. She never wanted to feel that fear again. When they got to the main house, she let Kelly take him upstairs. His birthday party was the next day and Allie had to get ready for it.

Randy Orton was a top photographer in London. His ability to get the photos of celebrities and political figures were incredible. And lately he had become fixated on the Ambassador to London, a prime target because of his perfect facade. Did the beautiful couple ever have sex? And if so, how? He sought to reveal what he called their humanity, but in truth he wanted to prove that everyone had secrets. Did the Ambassador ever buy an obscene magazine and masturbate? Did he have any girls on the side? These were the questions that intrigued him and though they would never be answered, there was always hope; this was the impetus that motivated him to watch and wait. Today he would go to the Cena estate.

For a mile outside of the Cena estate, policemen directed traffic and checked credentials; stuporously Randy gazed straight ahead while they double-checked his invitation to make sure it was real. Finally ushered through the great wrought-iron gates, Randy blinked hard, trying to shake the opium Illusions before he realized that the illusion was real. The entire estate had been turned into a sumptuous carnival. The lawns were teeming with color and life, small bodies running between circus tents and carousels, while vendors moved through, hawking cotton candy and taffy apples, their voices lost in the waltz-wheeze of organ music that pumped children up and down on swans and pink horses. Photographers ran everywhere, out of their minds with greed, but to Randy there was nothing to photograph. Only the façade. The brick wall that everyone else took for reality.

"What's the matter? Run out of film?" It was Sheamus talking, the stringer for the News Herald, feverishly reloading beside the hot-dog table, as Randy casually approached and took a handful of food.

"Just waiting for his canonization." Randy replied with distaste.

"How's that?"

"I don't know if we've got just the heir to the Cena millions here or a prince himself."

"You're a fool to miss out man. It's not often you'll get into a place like this."

"Why bother? What I need I can buy from you."

"You want an exclusive, do you?"

"No other way."

"Well, good luck, then. This is the most private family this side of Monaco."

The exclusive. That was the Orton dream. Private entrée into rarefied realms. There was excitement in the stalking to be sure but no status, no respect. If he could somehow work his way inside; that's where it was at.

"Hey, Nanny! Nanny!" Shouted Sheamus in the distance."Look this way!" And all the attention focused on a towering birthday cake being wheeled out from the inside. The child's nanny, Kelly, was dressed as a clown. As the photographers danced about her, she delighted in the attention, hugging, kissing, smearing her makeup onto the child.

"Can he blow them out?" They shouted. "Let him take a try."

Randy's eyes traveled slowly through the crowds; he spotted the face of Alison Cena, standing at a distance, a vague hint of disapproval playing about her mouth. For a split second her mask was down and Randy instinctively reached for his camera, clicking off a shot. At the birthday cake a howl of applause and approval went up, as Alison slowly moved forward.

"I'll take him." Alison said reaching toward them as they passed.

"I can do it, mum." Kelly replied brightly.

"I'll do it." Alison smiled.

And in that single moment as their eyes met, Kelly relinquished the child. It was a moment unnoticed by all, the momentum and noise carrying them forward, but Randy was watching it through his viewfinder. As the crowd moved on, Kelly was left standing alone, the towering house framed behind her, the clown costume somehow accentuating her air of desertion. Randy hit the button twice before the young girl turned and walked slowly back to the house. She stopped and saw a big black dog at the edge of the lawn. She made eye contact with the dog and starred.

Alison had placed Lucien onto the carousel and watched him. He waved and smiled as the carousel went around. Alison watched with a smile as her son enjoyed the ride. Just then they heard a voice.

"Lucien! Lucien!" She cried. "Look at me, Lucien!"

Alison turned to the house and there poised on the roof was Kelly, a heavy rope in her hand, cheerfully stretching it upward to show it was wound around her neck. Beneath her the crowds began to turn smiling in confused anticipation as the nanny moved forward to the edge and held her hands out as if readying a high dive into a pool of water.

"Look here, Lucien!" She shouted. "It's all for you!"

And in a single movement she stepped off the roof, her body plummeting downward, snapped back up by the rope, then hanging limp. Silent. Dead. And then there was a scream. John ran quickly and got Lucien off the carousel and held him close.

"It's okay pal." John said keeping his son calm. He looked over at the people tending to Alison. It took four people to quiet her and move her into the house. John followed and took Lucien inside.

Left alone in his room, Lucien gazed out over the empty lawn, only maintenance men and vendors left, staring upward in silence as a policemen grimly mounted a ladder and cut the body down. It slipped from his grip, falling headfirst onto the bricked patio. And it lay there crumpled, eyes gazing skyward, mouth painted in a garish grin.

The days before Kelly's funeral were painted in gloom. Alison spent most of her time sitting alone in the darkened living room, staring into space. A coroner's report had shown that there was a high amount of Benadryl in the girl's bloodstream when she died. To avoid the reporters who would try to embellish the story, John remained at home, his attention on his wife who was, he feared, slipping into that state he had seen a few years before.

"You're letting this get the best of you, you know." He said one night as he entered the living room. "It's not as thought she were a member of our family."

"She was." Allie replied quietly. "She told me she wanted to stay with us forever."

John shook his head, unable to make any sense of it. "I guess she changed her mind." He hadn't meant to sound cold, but his words were harsh, and he was aware of Allie's eyes finding his across the room. "I'm sorry. I hate to see you like this."

"It was my fault, John."

"Your fault?"

"There was a moment at the party." John crossed the room and sat beside her, his eyes etched with concern. "She was getting a lot of attention. And I was jealous of it. I took Lucien from her because I couldn't stand sharing center stage."

"I think you're being a little hard on yourself. The girl was deranged."

"And so am I." Allie whispered. "If being in the limelight means so much to me."

Her voice fell to silence. There was nothing left to say. She slid into John's arms and he held until she slept. It was the kind of sleep he had seen before when she was taking Librium, and he wondered if the shock of Kelly's death had caused her to take it again. He sat there for the better part of an hour before lifting her in his arms and carrying her into their room.

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	5. Chapter 5

John arrived at the embassy a week after Kelly committed suicide. He had to greet the Saudi Ambassador. He saw immediately all the papazzi outside. They were all there to get the story about Kelly. The car stopped and John got out and made his way toward the embassy but two men got in his way. The two men were moving fast, one taking pictures and one firing questions. He tried to step around them, shaking his head in response to their questions.

"Have you read the newspapers today, Mr. Cena?"

"No, I haven't." He said

"There's an article about your nanny, the one that jumped.."

"I didn't' see it."

"It says she left a suicide note."

"Nonsense."

"Could you look this way, please?" It was Randy with the camera, moving quickly, clicking away.

"Would you mind?" John asked as Randy blocked his way.

"Is it true she was involved with drugs?" The other one asked.

"Of course not."

"Did she use drugs, Mr. Cena?"

"I don't care what the article said!" John wasn't watching and he accidentally pushed Randy who fell. "Can't you people have some respect?" John bent down to help Randy get his camera. "I'm sorry. Send me a bill for the damage."

"That's okay, Mr. Ambassador. Let's just say you owe me." Randy said holding his broken camera.

After an uneasy nod, John entered the Embassy. He was met by his assistant Evan Bourne. They headed up to his office.

"John." Evan asked. "You okay?"

"Yeah." John replied.

"The tabloids are having a field day with the nanny situation."

"I know. Let it go." John said turning from the balcony. "It will blow over."

"I think we should issue a statement, at least."

"Evan, please let it go this time, okay?"

They were interrupted by John's secretary. "Excuse me, Mr. Cena. A Father McIntyre is waiting downstairs in reception."

"Father who?" John asked her.

"The priest from Rome."

"Hmm." John said turning to where the priest was. "Did he say what he wanted?"

"He called yesterday and said it was personal and urgent."

"Do you want me to handle this?" Evan asked.

"No, I got this." John replied heading to reception. He walked up to the priest and extended his hand. "Father McIntyre. John Cena. What can I do for you?"

The priest shook John's hand. "We haven't much time, Mr. Cena."

"Time for what?"

"We must accept the Lord Jesus Christ as our savior. Accept him now. Ask for his forgiveness. Take Holy Communion, Mr. Cena. Drink of his blood and eat of his flesh, for only If He is within you can you defeat the child of the Devil."

"I'm sorry, Father. I..."

"Accept responsibility, Mr. Cena. You did it. You let them do it."

John laughed an anxious laugh. "I think there's been some mistake Father. If you'll excuse me."

"He's killed before. He'll kill again. He'll kill until everything that's yours is his."

"Forgive me, Father but I really should get back to work. Sorry." John said walking away. He got only a few feet when he heard the priest say.

"I was at the hospital, Mr. Cena. The night your son was born."

John was jolted. Riveted in place. He walked back over to the priest.

"I participated. I witnessed the birth. I beg of you please, Mr. Cena." The priest said with sadness.

"What do you want?" John asked him.

"I want to save you, Mr. Cena. So that Christ will save me. And rescue me from eternal damnation."

"What do you know about my son?" John asked a little afraid.

"Everything." The priest answered. "I saw its mother."

"You saw my wife." John said.

"No, I saw its mother."

"You're referring to my wife." John said looking around.

"It's mother, Mr. Cena. It's mother."

"Okay, that's enough." John said motioning to a marine nearby. "Sergeant."

"Its mother is a jackal."

"Everything all right Mr. Ambassador?" The marine said walking over.

"Yes. Will you please escort this gentleman out of the building?"

"Yes, sir." The marine replied taking the priest's arm and pulling him away.

"You must accept the Lord each day Mr. Cena. " The priest said as he was led away.

"Come on, Father." The marine said as they walked to the entrance.

"Drink his blood. It is the only way, Mr. Cena." The priest was led out and down the stairs of the embassy.

Randy was sitting outside the embassy and saw the priest being led out. He got his another camera and started taking pictures as the priest was led away. He couldn't help but wonder what the priest wanted at the embassy.

John arrived home later that day. It was an exhausting day dealing with the priest and the work at the embassy. He wondered how Allie's day was. He knew she was interviewing for a new nanny. He walked in the house and headed to the living room.

"How's the nanny search coming?" He asked when he walked past Allie who was sitting on the sofa.

"Frustrating." Allie replied placing some resumes on the table.

"No one you like?" John asked placing his briefcase on the table.

"Not really."

"Well maybe we don't need one." John said pouring himself a drink.

"What does that mean?" Allie asked.

"Nothing. Just maybe we don't need a nanny. You're not working seems like a perfect..." He was interrupted by Allie.

"I'm trying to raise our child. That's works." Allie said annoyed. "I'm here with him every minute. You're not."

"All I'm saying is maybe we don't need a nanny." He said sitting down on the sofa across from her. "Give you and Lucien a chance to bond."

"Now Lucien and I don't bond." She said getting up and walking over to a nearby table.

"That's not what I meant, Allie." John looked over at his wife. Allie walked back to the sofa and John grabbed her. "Hey, hey, hey." He stood up. "Can we start over, please? I'm sorry you had a bad day. Mine wasn't exactly uneventful, either. Can we call it a draw? I'm sorry." He moved forward to kiss her. She smiled and hugged him. "Hon."

"Yeah?" Allie asked as he hugged her.

"There's something that I think I should…" John said before he was interrupted by Melina.

"Excuse me." Melina said when she walked in.

"Yes, Melina?" John sighed looked at her.

"A Sasha Bayton is here."

Allie was shocked. "I thought I was done for the day."

"Oh, shall I show her in?" Melina asked.

"Yes please." John said.

Sasha walked in immediately. "Good afternoon, Mr. Cena."

"Hello." John said walking over to shake her hand.

"Pleasure to meet you."

"This is my wife, Alison." John said pointing to Allie.

"Mrs. Cena." Sasha said shaking her hand.

"Hi." Allie replied.

"Please." John said pointing to the chair.

"Thank you." Sasha said sitting down. John and Allie sat on the sofa nearby. "If I may say, I realize this must be a difficult time for you. I'm genuinely sorry for your loss. Sometimes the younger ones away from their families. The job can be difficult. I don't have that problem. Taking care of little ones has been my whole life. I helped my mother raise my brothers and sisters. I was the eldest and I guess the habit just stuck."

"I don't' think I have your resume." Allie said to her.

"Oh, the agency sometimes forgets. They send out so many." She said looking in her bag. "I sometimes bring an extra copy." She handed the paper to Allie. "I love children, Mrs. Cena. I'm not the parent and I never forget that. But I am an extra pair of hands and a responsible substitute when you're out of the house. May I see the boy?"

Allie nodded and led her upstairs to Lucien's room inside Lucien was coloring. When the door opened, he looked over at his mother and the nanny.

"He's beautiful." Sasha said when she saw him. Just as she said something, the phone rang. Allie looked at the hallway.

"I'll just be right back." Allie said walking out.

When Allie left, Sasha walked into the room. "Hello Lucien." She said. He looked at her with some fright. "Don't worry little one, I'm here to protect you."

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	6. Chapter 6

By July the English countryside was in full flower, an unusually extended rainy reason causing the Thames tributaries to overflow and bring life to even the most long-dormant seeds. The grounds of the estate were becoming lush and green, the forest area beyond the gardens grown thick, sheltering an abundance of animal life. JoMo feared that the rabbits of the forest would soon overrun their refuge and start feeding on the tulips, and he set traps for them; their piercing cries could be heard in the dead of night. The practice ended, not only because Allie asked that he stop, but also because he had become uneasy about entering the forest to collect their remains. He felt "eyes" upon him, he said, as though he were being watched from the thickets.

It was, therefore, of special concern to him that the new nanny, Sasha, often took Lucien there, finding God-knows-what to amuse him with for hours at a time. JoMo also noticed, on helping his wife sort through the laundry, that the boy's clothing had a great many dark hairs on them, as though he had been playing with an animal. But he failed to make any connection between the animal hairs and the trip into the forest, chalking it up to just another one of the disturbing aspects of the house, of which there were coming to be many.

For one thing, Allie was spending less and less time with her child, somehow replaced by the new, exuberant nanny. It was true that Sasha was a devoted governess and that the child had come to love her as well. But it was disquieting, even unnatural, that the boy preferred her company to that of his own mother. The entire staff had noticed it and talked about it, feeling hurt for the lady of house's sake that she had been replaced in her child's affections by an employee. They wished that Sasha would leave. But instead each day found her more firmly entrenched, exerting more influence on the masters of the house.

As for Allie, she felt much the same way, but found herself helpless, unwilling to allow jealousy to again interfere with someone's affection for her child. She felt responsible for once having robbed Lucien of a cherished companion and she was loath to let it happen again. When, after the second week, Sasha asked to move her sleeping quarters to a room directly opposite Lucien's, Allie consented. Perhaps among the rich this was how it was supposed to be. Allie herself had been raised in more modest circumstances where it was a mother's job and her only job to be the companion and protector of her child. But life was very different here. She was the mistress of a great house and perhaps it was time she started behaving that way.

Her newfound freedom was occupied in all the right ways; ways her husband heartily approved of. Mornings were taken up with charity causes, afternoons devoted to politically oriented teas. John's wife was no longer the social oddball, the fragile flower, but a lioness possessed of an energy and confidence he had never seen before. This was the wife he had dreamed of for himself, and although the sudden change in personality was somehow disquieting, he did nothing to stand in her way. Even her lovemaking had changed, becoming more exciting, more passionate; John failed to realize that it was possibly an expression of desperation rather than desire.

In his cramped six-flight walk-up in Chelsea, Randy Orton was awake, gazing at the growing gallery of Cena portraits that adorned his darkroom wall. There were the pictures of the birthday party: Alison watching the nanny, the nanny in clown costume, all alone. It was the latter photograph that most interested him, for above the nanny's head there was a kind of blemish, a photographic imperfection that somehow added to the portent of the scene. It was a fleck of faulty emulsion, a vague haze that hung over the nanny, forming a halo around her head and neck. Though normally a flawed photo would have been discarded, this one was worth keeping. The knowledge of what happened immediately after it was taken gave the blemish a symbolic quality—the shapeless form like a shadow of doom. The final photograph was of her dead body suspended by a rope; a jarring reality to complete the montage. Altogether the Cena gallery was a photographic study in the macabre. And it delighted Randy. He had taken the same subjects that adorned the pages of Good Housekeeping and found something extraordinary in them, something different that no one had found before. He had also begun to research, using a contact in America to check into the Cenas' background for more information on them.

He found that Alison had come from Russian immigrant parentage and that her natural father had died by his own hand. According to a back issue of the Minneapolis Times, he had leaped from the roof of a downtown Minneapolis office building. Alison was born a month later and her mother remarried within a year, moving to New Hampshire with her new husband who gave the child his name. In a few interviews that Alison had given out over the years there was never any mention of the stepfather and Randy speculated that she herself might not know the truth. It wasn't important, but somehow it gave Randy an edge. Just one more delightful morsel, adding to the illusion that he was on the inside.

The only shot missing was that of the Ambassador himself, and Randy hoped that tomorrow might be the day. There was an important wedding at All Saints Church which the Cena family would be likely to attend. It wasn't Randy's kind of setup, but he'd been lucky so far and perhaps would be again.

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	7. Chapter 7

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, alerted and favorited this story. You guys are awesome. I would love to hear what you all think of this story.

Disclaimer:I do not own the WWE or the wrestlers in this story. I own only my ocs. This story is fiction and is to be taken that way. No copyright infringement intended.

Based on the move: The Omen

* * *

><p>The day before the wedding John dispensed with his customary Saturday chores at the Embassy and took Alison for a drive in the country instead. He wanted them to spend some time together alone. It appeared to be the right medicine, for she seemed relaxed for the first time in months, enjoying the drive, the simplicity of holding his hand as they wound their way through the English countryside. Alison held his hand tightly, the release of emotions having created an intimacy that had long been absent in their relationship. She was vulnerable now, and as they stopped by a stream her tears came again. She spoke of her fears, her fears of losing Lucien. She said that if anything happened to him, she would not be able to carry on.<p>

"You won't lose him, Allie." John gently assured her. "Life couldn't be that cruel." They sat on the grass beneath a towering oak tree and Alison's voice came in a whisper as she watched the movement of the stream.

"I'm so afraid." She said.

"There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Yet I fear everything."

"What's to fear Alison?"

"What isn't to fear?" She said softly. "I fear the good because it will go away. I fear the bad because I'm too weak to withstand it. I fear your success and I fear your failure. And I fear that I have little to do with either. I fear you'll become President of the United States, John… and you'll be saddled with a wife who isn't up to it."

"You've done beautifully." He reassured her.

"But I've hated it." The admission was so simple, yet it had never been said. And it somehow cleansed them. "Doesn't that shock you?"

"A little."

"You know what I want for us more than anything?" She asked. He shook his head. "I want for us to go back home."

He lay back in the grass, staring up into the leaves of the great Oak. "More than anything, John. To go where it's safe. To be where I belong."

A long silence followed; she lay beside him, nestled in his arms. "It's safe here. In your arms."

"Yes."

She closed her eyes, her mouth upturning in a wistful smile. "This is New Jersey, isn't it?" She whispered. "And isn't our little farm just over that hill? The one we've retired to?"

"It's a big hill, Allie."

"I know. I know. We'll never get over it."

A slight breeze rose, rustling the leaves above them. "Maybe Lucien will." John whispered. 'Maybe he's a budding young farmer."

"Not likely. He's your son through and through."

John was unresponsive; his eyes were fixed on the leaves. "He is, you know." Allie mused. "It's as if I had nothing to do with him at all."

John raised himself on one arm and regarded her saddened expression. "Why do you say that?"

She shrugged, not knowing quite how to explain it. "He's his own man. He doesn't seem to need anybody."

"He just seems that way."

"He's not attached to me like a child is to his mother. Were you attached to your mother?"

"Yes."

"Are you attached to your wife?"

John's eyes met hers and he caressed her face; she kissed his hand.

"I don't want to leave this spot." She whispered. "I want to stay here like this." And she moved her face upward until her lips touched his.

"You know, Allie." John whispered after a long silence. "When I first met you, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen."

She smiled at the memory and nodded her head. "I still think so, Allie. I still do."

"I love you." She whispered.

"I love you too." He responded.

They headed back home and just spend the time together. Tomorrow was the wedding and they would attend as a family.

The following morning dawned bright and by nine a.m. John was dressed for the wedding and moving jauntily down the stairs.

"Allie." He called.

"Coming." She said from upstairs. She got her purse and headed down. She wondered where Lucien was. She saw Sasha on the second floor. "Sasha, where's Lucien? I asked that you have him dressed and ready."

"I'm afraid he's feeling a bit under the weather."

"He was fine a minute ago." Allie said looking up at the nanny.

Sasha shook her head. "I was concerned about him last night. He didn't sleep well. I think he might be coming down with something and it's such a long ceremony. I really don't think it's a good idea."

Allie looked up. She couldn't believe that the nanny thought she was in charge. "Sasha, have my son dressed and in the car in five minutes."

Allie walked toward the entrance of the house not seeing the cold look the nanny was giving her. Within five minutes, Lucien was dressed and ready to go. They made their way toward the church.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Allie asked her son seeing that he was not happy. She placed a hand on his head. "Hey, it's just a church. That's all."

"I know how you feel, kiddo." John said turning from Lucien to look out the window.

Lucien began breathing heavily. Allie looked at her son and then her husband. "John."

"You okay, tiger?" John asked his son.

The church came closer into view and Lucien continued to breathe heavily. Allie placed a hand on his forehead.

"Is he sick?" John asked her. Allie felt his cheeks for fever. "Lucien, what's wrong?"

As the church got closer, Lucien began to scream and claw at Allie in a panic. He grabbed at her dress. She tried to pull him off. He grabbed her pearl necklace and broke it.

"Lucien." She screamed. "Stop it. Lucien!'

"Lucien, let go now!" John said.

"No!" Allie said as Lucien clawed at her and pulled her hair. She tried to get her son off of her.

"No! Lucien." John said grabbing him trying to pull him off of her. "Let go!"

The car stopped and the door opened with Lucien still screaming. "Go, drive now!" John yelled.

He shut the door and managed to finally get a hold on Lucien in a bear hug and pinned his arms to his side. He held Lucien and gave Allie his handkerchief to tend to her cut on her forehead. Lucien looked at her with cold eyes. They returned home and Sasha took Lucien upstairs.

"Hold still." John said as he cleaned Allie's cut.

"Maybe we should call a doctor." Allie said as they were in the kitchen.

"No, it's not that bad."

"I mean for Lucien."

"He's fine, Allie. That boy has never been sick a day in his life."

"I know. It's strange, isn't it?" Allie said moving her hair out of her face.

"What, that he's healthy?" John replied going over to the sink.

"It's unusual, John. Other kids get colds, runny noses, the flu. But Lucien nothing. Not once." She got up off the stool and looked at her husband. "It's not just my imagination. He's strange. It's..."

"What?"

"It's different. He's different." She said looking at her husband.

"And why would you think something like that, hmm?" He walked over to her. "He's just a little boy, Allie. He got scared that's all.

"I'm gonna go to bed." She smiled a little.

"Okay." He watched as she headed upstairs. His stomach in knots.

The secret was still there. Down in the pit of his stomach. It had never left him, in all these years, but mostly, he had felt justified about it; guilty for the deception, but soothed by all the happiness it had brought. When things were going well, it was easy to hold it down, keep it dormant. But now it was somehow becoming important, and he felt it burgeoning in him as though it would clog his throat. Inside he longed to tell her, have it out in the open. But it was too late. The deception had gone on too long. She would hate him for it. She might even hate the child. It was too late. She must never know.

He sighed and gazed out into the forest, he saw instead the hospital in Rome; saw himself there, standing before the window, agreeing to take the child. Why had he not asked more about the mother? Who was she? Where had she come from? Who was the father, and why was he not there? Over the years he had made certain assumptions and they had served to calm his fears. Lucien's real mother was probably a peasant girl, a girl of the Church, therefore delivering her child in a Catholic hospital. She was probably an orphan herself, thus no family, and the child was born out of wedlock, this was the reason no father was on hand. What else was there to know? What else could have mattered? The child was beautiful and alert, described as "perfect in every way."

John was unaccustomed to doubting himself, to accusing himself; his mind struggled for reassurance that what he had done was right. He had been confused and desperate at the time. He had been vulnerable, an easy prey to suggestion. Could it possibly have been wrong? Could there have been more he needed to know?

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	8. Chapter 8

The answers to those questions would never be known to John. Only a handful of people knew them and by now they were scattered across the globe. There was Sister Beth, Father Cole, and Father McIntyre. Only they knew. It was for their consciences alone. In darkness of that long-distant night they had worked in feverish silence, in the tension and honor of having been chosen. In all of earth's history it had been attempted just twice before and they knew that, this time, it must not fail. It was all in their hands, just the three of them, and it had moved like clockwork, and no one had known. After the birth, it was Sister Beth who prepared the impostor, cleaning his arms and forehead, powdering him dry so he would look presentable when John was brought up to view. The hair on his head was thick, as they had hoped, and she used a hairdryer to fluff it, first checking the scalp to make sure the birthmark was there. John would never see Sister Beth, nor would he see the diminutive Father McIntyre who was at work in basement crating two bodies to be immediately shipped away. The first body was that of John's child, silenced before it uttered its first cry; the second was that of the animal, the surrogate mother of the one who survived. Outside, a truck was waiting to carry the bodies to Cerveteri, where in the silence of Cimitero di Sant'Angelo, gravediggers waited beneath the shrine.

The plan had been born of diabolical communion, and Cole was in charge, having chosen his accomplices with the utmost care. He was satisfied with Sister Beth, but in the final moments became concerned about McIntyre. The scholar was devout, but his belief was born of fear, and on the last day he demonstrated an instability that gave Cole pause. McIntyre was eager, but his eagerness was self-oriented, a desperation to prove he was worthy of the job. He had lost sight of the significance of what they were doing, preoccupied instead with the importance of his own role. The self-consciousness led to anxiety, and Cole came close to dismissing McIntyre. If one of them failed, all three would be held responsible. And more important, it could not be attempted again for another thousand years.

In the end, McIntyre proved himself, performing his job with dedication and dispatch, even handling a crisis that none of them anticipated. The child was not yet dead and made a sound within his crate as it was being put onto the truck. Quickly removing the crate, McIntyre returned with it to the hospital basement and himself made certain that no cry would ever come again. It had shaken him, deeply. But he had done it, and that was all that mattered.

Around them that night in the hospital, all things appeared to be normal; doctors and nurses carrying on their routine without the slightest knowledge of what was happening in their midst. It had been performed with discretion and exactitude, and no one, especially not John, had ever had a clue.

As he sat now on his patio, gazing out into the night, John realized that the forest no longer was foreboding to him. He did not have the feeling, as before, that there was something watching him from within. It was peaceful now and it was relaxing, somehow reassuring, that life around him was normal. His eyes shifted toward the house, traveling upward to Lucien's window. It was illuminated by a nightlight, and John speculated on the child's face in the peacefulness of sleep. It would be the right vision to end this frightening day with and he rose, switching off a lamp and moving into the darkened house.

It was pitch black inside and the air seemed to ring with silence. John felt his way toward the stairs. There, he groped for a light switch, and finding none, proceeded silently upward, until he reached the landing. He headed toward Lucien's room. He entered and found his son sleeping peacefully. The soft lamp illuminated the room. He slowly made his way over to the bed. He sat down on the bed and lovingly stoked his son's hair and cheek.

Just as he did, he heard a sound. He got up off the bed and turned to see a dog lying by the fireplace. The dog got and growled at John.

"Whoa, whoa." John uttered on a shaking breath and his voice caused the animal to coil tighter, as if ready to spring.

"Quiet down now." Sasha said as she appeared from her room. "This is the master of the house."

And the dog fell silent, the drama suddenly ended. John turned toward the nanny.

"What is this?" He gasped.

"Sir?" She asked.

"This dog."

"Isn't he beautiful? We found him outside."

"Who gave you permission?"

"I thought we could use a good watchdog and the boy absolutely loves him."

"I don't want him here." John snapped.

She gazed at him with surprise. "You don't like dogs?"

"When I want a dog, I'll choose it."

"Lucien has taken quite a fancy to it, sir and I think he needs it."

"I'll decide when he needs a dog."

"Children can count on animals, sir. No matter what."

She gazed at him as though there was something else she was trying to convey.

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

"I wouldn't presume to sir."

But the way she looked at him made it plain. "If you have something to say, Sasha, I'd like to hear it."

"I shouldn't sir. You've enough on your mind."

"I said I would like to hear it."

"Just that the child seems lonely."

"Why should he be lonely?"

"His mother doesn't seem to accept him."

John stiffened, affronted by the remark.

"You see?" She said. "I shouldn't have spoken."

"Doesn't accept him?"

"She doesn't seem to like him. And he feels it too." John was speechless not knowing what to say. "Sometimes I think all he has is me." She added.

"I think you're mistaken." John said firmly.

"Now he has this dog. He loves this dog. For his sake, don't take away."

John gazed down at the massive animal and walked to the door. "I don't like this dog. Tomorrow you will call the RSACP and have him removed."

"The pound?" She gasped.

"The Humane Society."

"They kill them there."

"Just get him out, then. Tomorrow I want him gone."

"Come on." She said to the dog with her face hardened and walked into her room.

John left not knowing that Sasha and the dog watched him leave and their eyes burned with hatred.

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	9. Chapter 9

A few days later, Allie decided to go along with Lucien's class to the zoo. She wanted them to spend some time together. Her son was five years old and had yet to go to the zoo. As the Ambassador's family, everything was brought to them, they rarely sought things out. Perhaps it was this lack of normal childhood activities that had dulled Lucien's sense of fun. But today there was life in his eyes, and as he sat beside her in the car, she could sense she had finally done something right. He even talked. Not much, but more than usual—struggling with the word "hippopotamus," and giggling when he finally got it right. How little it took to make Allie happy; a giggle from her child caused her spirits to soar. As they headed for the city, she talked nonstop and Lucien listened intently. Lions were just big cats and gorillas were just big monkeys and squirrels were related to rats and horses related to donkeys. He was delighted, absorbing it all and Allie made a poem of it, repeating as they drove. Lion are cats and gorilla monkeys, and squirrels are rats and horses are donkeys. She said it fast and Lucien laughed, and she said it faster and he laughed harder. It convulsed him and they laughed together all the way to the zoo.

They paid the admission and headed in. The path to the Monkey house was clearly marked with signs; following them, they approached a line of cages, Lucien's eyes lighting with excitement as the first animal came into view. It was a bear, pacing mechanically back and forth, oblivious to the people gawking from the other side of the bars. But as Allie and Lucien came near, the bear seemed to notice them. It stopped and glared, it's back bristling as they slowly moved by. In the adjoining cage was a large cat, and it too ceased to move; its yellowed eyes riveted upon them, following them as they passed. Next was a baboon, which suddenly bared its teeth, clearly, singling them out from the many others who passed. Allie began to sense the effect they were having on the animals, and she watched them carefully as she passed cage after cage. It was Lucien they were watching. And he seemed to feel it too. They soon headed into the monkey house with the kids. All of the kids went to look while the parents followed behind.

"So, how is the new nanny working out?" Carly, the mother of another child asked Allie.

"She seems good but so did the last one." Allie laughed nervously. She looked at Carly and Sarah, the other mother. "I know the two of you were there when the other girl… with your kids. I hope there okay."

"They're fine." Carly replied

"Yeah, they're fine." Sarah replied too.

Allie smiled and looked over at Lucien. He was standing at a monkey cage. She walked over to him.

"Lucien." Allie said as she walked closer. "Hey, Lucien, what's' the matter?" She placed a hand on his hair and smoothed it. "Those other kids didn't want to play with you."

"They're afraid." Lucien whispered to her.

Allie looked at the animals and noticed they were shaking and whimpering. Some were hiding in the cave in the cage. Allie looked around at them and then back to her son.

"Let's go look at the birds." She said picking him up. "Let's do that."

Lucien laid his head on her shoulder as they walked away. They had only gotten a few feet when they heard the monkeys making noise. Before anyone could react, a large gorilla began to hit against the glass of the cage. The other animals began making noise as he continued to try to break the glass. Allie held Lucien tight as everyone began to run away. The gorilla managed to the crack the glass as everyone was screaming. Allie quickly made her way out of the monkey house with Lucien in her arms. She headed to the car and headed home. She handed Lucien to Sasha and headed upstairs.

After taking a bath, she got into bed. She sat up in the bed thinking about everything. She was deep in thought but she heard John walked in. He looked over at her as he did.

"Hi." He said walking over to the closet. He untied his tie and took it off. He looked at his wife. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah." She nodded.

"How's Lucien?" He said walking into the bedroom and closer to her. He could see something was bothering her. "What's wrong? Did something happen today Allie?"

"We went to the zoo with all the other children." She replied as she started to cry. "There's something about Lucien… He's so far away." She said tears streaming down her face. "Something's' not right." She placed a hand in her hair and ran her fingers through it. "I must be a terrible person for even thinking such things."

"No," John said sitting down beside her in the bed. "No, Allie. "

"I need to talk to someone." She wiped her tears with her hand.

"Okay, okay." John said kissing her shoulder and placing his arm around her. " Shh, what can I do baby?"

"I need to talk to someone." She said again.

John looked at her. "Okay." He agreed. He wanted her to talk to him but it was obvious that she needed to talk to someone else.

The next day John checked into psychiatrists for her. He wanted someone who would be discreet. He found one that had lived in America and treated several senators' wives. Dr. Barrett had grown up in England but had gone to America for a while. He was now back in England and John felt he could trust him. He met with him that afternoon. He would check him out and then let Allie see him.

"The common problem among politicians' wives is alcoholism." Wade said as John sat before him. "I think it's the feeling of isolation. The feeling of inadequacy. The fear that they have no identity of their own."

"You understand the need for confidence."

"That's all I have to sell." Wade smiled. "People confide in me and frankly that's all I have to offer. They don't discuss their problems with other people precisely because they think their confidences will come back to haunt them. I'm safe. I can't promise much, but I can promise you that."

"Good." John said getting up. "You will call me if you need to after you see her."

"No." Wade replied. "What she and I talk about is between us. Only she can tell you what is said."

"Fair enough." John said walking out. He had to get to work on his upcoming speech. He called Allie and told her her appointment was the next day in the morning.

He hoped this helped Allie. She was slipping and it worried him. She had always been unstable but this was something different and he wasn't sure where all of this would lead them.

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	10. Chapter 10

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, alerted and favorited this story. You guys are awesome.

Warning:Religious Mention in this chapter. Just a warning if you don't care to read things like that.

Disclaimer:I do not own the WWE or the wrestlers in this story. I own only my ocs. This story is fiction and is to taken that way. No copyright infringement intended.

Based on the Movie: The Omen

* * *

><p>Randy had once again followed John and got some photos. He headed home and to his darkroom. He sat there gazing at a series of photographs, his eyes curious and confused. To make sure his spare camera was operating efficiently he had shot off thirty six pictures at varying exposures and speeds and three of them had turned out defective. It was the same sort of defect he'd had a few months ago in the shot of the nanny at the Cena estate. This time it involved the shots of the priest. Once again it seemed to be a flaw on the emulsion but this time it appeared more than once. It came twice in a row, then skipped two shots, then returned, exactly as before. Even more curious, it seemed linked to the subject, the strange blur of movement hanging above the priest's head as though it were somehow actually there.<p>

Randy lifted five photos from the developer and examined them closely under the light: two shots of the priest with the Marine, two close-ups of the Marine alone, then one more of the priest alone in the distance. Not only did the blemish disappear in the two shots of the Marine but when it reappeared in the final shot, it was smaller in size, relative to the size of the priest. As before it was a kind of a halo, but unlike the blemish that defaced the photo of the nanny, this one was oblong in shape, suspended well over the subject's head. The haze that enveloped the head of the nanny was inert, conveying a sense of peace, but the one above the priest's head was dynamic, as though in motion. It looked like a ghostlike javelin about to skewer the priest to the ground.

John had several speaking engagements over the next few days. He had caught a glimpse of the priest several times. He headed home one evening to look up some things for an upcoming speech. After Allie had retired and the house was dark and silent around him, he opened the books in his study and began to ponder again. It was the return of Christ that sparked his imagination and he sought out pertinent passages of text. He found it immensely complicated, for it was prophesied in the Book of Revelations that when Christ returned to earth he would have to face his antithesis. The Anti-Christ. The Son of Evil. And the earth would be swept asunder by the final contest between Heaven and Hell. It would be Armageddon. The Apocalypse. The end of the world.

From the silence of his office, John heard a sound coming from the upstairs of the house. It was a moan. It came twice and then stopped. Leaving the office, he moved quietly up the stairs and gazed in at Allie. She was asleep but restless, her face bathed in sweat. He watched her until her tossing ceased and her breath became even, and then he withdrew, heading back to the stairs. He passed Lucien's room and silently opened the door. He saw that his son was sleeping soundly. After checking them, he headed back to his office. He was troubled now unable to concentrate, his eyes idly wandering across the opened pages. The small King James Bible was opened to the Book of Daniel and he stared at it in silence.

…And then shall arise a contemptible one whom royal majesty had not been given. He shall come by counterfeit means and obtain the Kingdom by flatteries. Armies shall be swept away before him and broken….and he shall act deceitfully and he shall become strong with a small people. Without warning he shall come into the richest parts; and he shall do what neither his fathers nor his fathers' fathers have done, scattering among the people plunder, spoils, and goods. He shall devise plans against strongholds, he shall exalt himself and magnify himself above every God, and shall speak astonishing things against the God of Gods. He shall prosper until the indignation is accomplished, for what is determined shall be done.

John poured himself a glass of wine and wandered the room, forcing his mind to deal with his research, to shut out the uneasiness. When the Jews returned to Zion, Christ was again to be born. And as Christ would be born, so would the Anti-Christ, both growing separately until their final confrontation. John stood over his books, thumbing through them again.

John closed his books and turned out his desk lamp. He sat for a long time in silence. He wondered what these books were, and who had written them and why they had been written at all. And he wondered why he believed them, and yet why he rejected them. To believe them made one's efforts futile. Were they all just pawns for the mightier forces of Good and Evil? Were they puppets being manipulated from above and below? Could there really be a Heaven? Could there really be a Hell? He realized these were the questions of an adolescent and yet he could not help but wonder. He had felt it recently, the sensation of powers beyond his control. Not random powers but purposeful ones; sensations that made him feel weak and impermanent. And more than that; _helpless_. That, at the bottom line, was what it all meant. He was helpless. They were all helpless. They didn't ask to be born and they didn't ask to die. They were made to. But why, in between, did there have to be such pain? Perhaps humankind was more amusing that way. Perhaps they provided entertainment.

John lay on the couch and slept. He didn't want to wake up Allie. And his dreams were filled with fear. He was on a crowded street and stopped a policeman, attempting to explain that he was lost and afraid. The policeman refused to listen, instead directing traffic around him until it came so close that he could feel the breeze. The breeze grew in intensity as the traffic moved faster, and John felt as though he were caught in a gale wind. So strong was the wind that he could not catch his breath, and he gasped, hanging on to the policeman who refused to acknowledge he was there. He cried out for help, but no one could hear him, his cries drowned out by the howling wind. A black car suddenly swerved toward him and he struggled to get out of its way. But the wind pushed him on all sides, holding him in place. As it bore down, he could see the driver's face. It had no features, yet it emitted a laugh, the flesh ripping open where a mouth should have been, spewing blood as the car came bearing down.

At the moment of contact, John woke up. He was gasping for breath and bathed in sweat. Slowly the dream left him and he lay immobile. It was early morning, and the house was quiet. He fought the urge to weep. He quickly got up from the sofa and headed upstairs to his and Allie's bedroom. He got into bed with his wife. He looked and she seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He wrapped his arms around her and was soon asleep himself free of the dreams that had plagued him.

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	11. Chapter 11

For Drew McIntyre, life on earth could have been no worse than that in purgatory. It was for that reason that he, as so many others, had joined the coven in Rome. He was Irish by birth, the son of a fisherman. His memory of childhood was the smell of fish. It clung to his mother like a cloak of sickness and in fact she had died of a parasite ingested from eating fish raw when she became too weak to forage for firewood. Orphaned at age eight, Drew was taken to a monastery; there, beaten by monks until he confessed his sins, he was saved. But while in Africa, he committed unforgiveable sins and was sentenced to death. He quickly made his way to Nairobi.

In Nairobi, he met the graceful Father Cole and confessed his sins; Cole promised to protect him and took him to Rome. It was there, in the coven in Rome, that he was indoctrinated into the dogma of Hell. The Satanists provided a sanctuary where the judgment of God did not exist. They lived for the pursuit of bodily pleasure and Drew shared his body with others whose pleasure matched his. They were a community of outcasts who, together, could cast out the rest.

The time soon came when all the biblical symbols fell into place heralding the moment when earth history would suddenly and irrevocably change. For the third time since the formation of the planet, The Evil One would spew forth his progeny, entrusting its nurturing to maturity to his disciples on earth. It had been attempted twice before without success; the watchdogs of Christ discovered the Beast and killed it before it came into power. This time it would not fail. The concept was right; the plan timed to perfection.

It was no surprise that Cole chose Drew as one of the three to carry out the momentous plan. The priest was loyal, dedicated and followed orders without the slightest hesitation or remorse. For this reason, his part would be the most brutal' the murder of the innocent who, by necessity, had to be involved. It was Cole who would choose the surrogate family and he who would affect the transfer of the child. Sister Beth would tend the impregnantion and assist in the birth. Drew would supervise the grisly aftermath, making sure the evidence would disapear and be buried in hallowed ground.

The night of June sixth. The sixth month, the sixth day, the sixth hour. Events occurred that would follow Drew to the end of his days. In the midst of labor the surrogate mother had begun to wail, Sister Beth silencing it with ether as its giant progeny tore through the womb. Drew finished the job for her with the stone given to him by Cole. He crushed the animal's head to a pulp, and it prepared him for what had to be done to the human child. But when the newborn human child was brought down to him, he hesitated, for it was a child of uncommon beauty. He gazed at them both, the two infants side by side: the blood-covered one, thick with hair; and the soft, white, beautiful one, its eyes gazing upward with absolute trust. He knew what had to be done, and he did it, but he did not do it well. It had to be redone, and he sobbed as he tore open the crate to hit the Cena child once again. For an instant he was gripped by the impulse to grab the child up in his arms, to run with it and keep running, to find a place of safety. But he saw the infant was already damaged, irreparably so and the stone came down hard again. And again. And again. Until the sound had stopped and the body lay still.

In the darkness of that night, no one saw the tears that streamed down Drew's face; in fact, from that night on, no one in the coven ever saw him again. He fled Rom the following morning and lived in obscurity for the five years that passed. Drew soon discovered he was dying and it was this that drove him to seek forgiveness from the Lord. He would prove himself worthy of that forgiveness by attempting to undo what he had done.

Drew found Mark Callaway and spent six hours explain everything. Mark knew what it would take to end the life of the child. Mark looked at Drew but told him he couldn't intervene for he was imprisoned here in his fortress. Someone with direct access to the child would have to be brought to him.

Fearing his time was short, Drew made his way to London to find John Cena and convince him of what must be done. He prayed that God was watching him and he feared that Satan was watching him as well. But he was not ignorant of the Devil's work and took every precaution to maintain life and breath until he could find Cena and his story could be told. If he could do this, he knew he would be absolved of his sins and admitted into the Kingdom of Heaven.

The one meeting with Cena, at the Embassy, was a failure. He had frightened the Ambassador and was summarily dismissed. Now he followed him everywhere, his desperation growing; and this day he stood watching the Ambassador from the other side of the room at the opera. He quickly made his way over to John. He took his hand to prevent him from leaving.

"Tomorrow Mr. Cena 1:00 bishop's park by the bridge. Just five minutes and you'll never see me again. Your wife's in grave danger. She'll die if you don't come." As John pulled back, the priest was suddenly gone; the Ambassador was left dazed, gazing into the art work on the wall of the opera house.

John had struggled as to what to do about the priest. He could simple send the police in his place and they could take McIntyre to jail. But the charge would be harassment, and John, as complainant, would have to appear. The priest would be interrogated. The issue would become public. The newspapers would have a feast, capitalizing on the ranting of an insane man. He couldn't have it. Not now, not ever. There was no way of knowing what the priest would say. His fixation centered around the birth of the child; a macabre coincidence that it was an area in which John had something to hide. As an alternative to the police, perhaps John could send an emissary to pay the man off or threaten him into going away. But that would also mean involving an outsider.

The next day, John drove himself to the park. It started raining as soon as he got there. He saw the priest standing under the bridge. John got his umbrella and walked toward him. When he got to the bridge, he closed up his umbrella.

"All right you've got your five minutes. Now tell me why I'm here."

"When the Jews return to Zion and a comet rips the sky, when the Holy Roman Empire rises then you and I must die. From the eternal sea he rises creating armies on either shore turning man against his brother until man exists no more." Drew said to him.

"You said my wife was in danger" John said wanting to know what the priest wanted.

"Go to the town of Megiddo. In the walled city of Dezrahel, there lives a man named Mark Callaway. He alone can describe how the child must die."

"What child? What are you talking about?" John asked confused.

"Your son, Mr. Cena." The priest said to him. "The son of the devil"

"I came here because you said my wife was in danger."

"She's pregnant."

"That's impossible" John said softly. They had told him that she couldn't have another baby.

"That's what they told you Mr. Cena." The priest said in a hard voice. "He'll not allow the child to be born. He'll kill it while it slumbers in the womb. He'll kill the unborn child, and then he'll kill your wife. And then when he's certain to inherit all that you have. Then, Mr. Cena, then… then he'll kill you."

"That's enough!" John replied forcefully.

"And with your wealth and power he will establish his counterfeit Kingdom here on earth. receiving his orders directly from Satan. He has to die Mr. Cena. You must act now or all will be lost." The priest said as John was walking away. "Go to the town of Megiddo, hmm? See Callaway before it's all too late."

"Now you listen to me. I don't' know who you are or what you want, but you stay away from my family do you understand. I don't want to see or hear from you ever again." John quickly walked away and headed to his car leaving the priest there.

"You'll see me in hell, Mr. Cena. We'll spend eternity together."

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	12. Chapter 12

Drew stood there for a minute before he heard a sound. It was distant at first, almost subliminal, gradually growing in intensity until it filled the atmosphere around him. It was the sound of the OHM, and as it continued to rise, Drew gripped his crucifix. The sky was darkening and a breeze began to rise. Clutching his cross with both hands, Drew began to move, seeking the safely of the street. But there the wind suddenly rose around him. Across the street he could see a church, but as he stepped off the curb the wind suddenly rushed at him with gale force and he leaned into it, pushing hard against it to make his way to safety. The sound of the OHM was ringing in his ears now, mixed with the sound of howling wind; Drew moaning with exertion as he struggled forward, his vision obscured by the cloud of swirling dust and rain.

A rumble of thunder rolled across the sky as Drew stood mid-street, whimpering with fear. A bolt of lightning flashed above the distant church, and Drew wheeled, running back into the park. With a sudden crash of thunder, rain poured down heavily, Drew running in desperation as lightning began striking around him, a large tree fairly exploding as he passed. Crying out with fear, he slipped in the mud. He made his way to the church and began to pull on the fence out front. It was locked with chains and a padlock. He quickly climbed over the fence and was on the ground. He made his way to the door of the church. He tried to open it but it wouldn't open. He banged on the door and banged on it. A board held in the door in place.

The lightning struck the top of the church and a pole came loose from the top. He heard the lightening and moved back. He looked up in time to see the pole plummeting downward; its metal tip cutting air with the directness of an earth-bound javelin. It smashed directly into the priest's head, running the length of his body, impaling him in the grass. He hung there suspended, his arms akimbo, like a marionette hung up for the night.

Allie sat in the living room on the sofa while Lucien played a video game on the floor. Allie had taken to spend more time him before the zoo and he had become somewhat attached to her. She sat there with her thoughts. She had found something that demanded action. It required the kind of confrontation with her husband that she feared.

"Lucien can you please stop that?" Allie said annoyed. "Lucien!" She said again. "Sasha!"

"What's wrong?" John asked when he walked into the living room.

"That noise is driving me crazy." Allie said to him. She called for the nanny again. "Sasha!"

"Yes, ma'am." Sasha said entering the room.

"Could you please take him out of here?" Allie said with some annoyous.

"He's playing quietly Allie." John said to her not understanding why she was so insistent that Lucien leave the room.

"I said take him out of here."

"Yes ma'am." Sasha said walking over to Lucien and taking his hand. "Come along, Lucien. Mommy's not feeling well. We'll go take a walk." Sasha led Lucien out of the room who looked back at his mother with some hurt on his face.

John walked over to the table nearby and looked at his wife. "How's the therapy coming?"

"Can't you tell?" Allie said getting up and getting a red blanket off the sofa. "Dr. Barrett wants to speak with you." She walked out onto the balcony.

"About what?" He said. "Allie?" He followed her out on the balcony.

"We have a problem John." Allie said turning to face him. "I'm pregnant."

"What?" John asked shocked by this.

"I'm having an abortion."

"Allie listen we should talk about this."

"No!" Allie said forcefully. "I am not having any more children. I want it out of me." She walked passed her husband and into the house.

John sighed and walked back into the house. Just as he did, his computer went off signaling a new message. He looked at the background on the computer which was a photo of Allie and Lucien. He opened the email and saw it was a message from Evan.

John, I thought you might want to see this. Just click the link. Evan.

John clicked the link attached and a news article came on screen. It showed the photo of the priest with a metal pole through his body. The article headline said Priest dies in bizarre accident. John was shocked that the priest was dead. He couldn't believe that a little while ago he was talking to the priest and now the priest was dead.

After seeing the priest's photo, John had driven fast toward London, his mind racing in an attempt to sort things out. Allie was pregnant, the priest had been right. And now he could no longer dismiss the rest of what McIntyre had said. He tried to recall their meeting: the names, the places that McIntyre said he should go. He fought for calm, trying to register each recent event: the conversation with Allie and the email. John called Dr. Barrett and arranged to see him as Allie asked.

"Look Mr. Cena." Wade said as they sat across from each other. "This session was Alison's idea. So I encourage you to speak freely. "

"Well Allie's been under a lot of pressure recently." John said slowly. "With our son, Lucien. Things have been difficult. And I suppose that's why she doesn't like the idea of having another child."

"She's certainly having a hard time coping." Wade replied. "So much so that she's developed what I call delusional rationalizations."

"Like what?" John asked.

"Well she fantasizes that Lucien is evil, for instance."

John looked shocked. "What do you mean evil?"

"Forget about that Mr. Cena. It's just a fantasy." Wade said calmly. "She also fantasizes that he's not really hers."

"She told you that?" John asked shocked Allie would think that.

"It's just inside her head."

"Do you believe in God, Dr. Barrett?" John asked softly.

"Excuse me?"

"God. Do you believe?"

"Mr. Cena. My beliefs really don't have anything to do with this." He replied looked at John. "Look, Mr. Cena, if you want to help your wife, you really must consider an abortion."

"We're not having an abortion. We need this child." John exited and quickly headed for the stairs that would take him outside.

Once on the street, he moved at a run, a sense of panic welling within him as he made it to his car, fumbling with his keys. There was something wrong. He needed to be home. Flooring the accelerator, he swung a fast U-turn, tires squealing as he headed back in the direction of the highway. The Estate was half an hour away and he feared, though, he didn't know why, that he might not get there in time. The streets of London were filled with midday traffic; he sounded his horn, swerving and running stoplights as the sense of desperation overwhelmed him.

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	13. Chapter 13

At the estate, Alison felt the anxiety too, busying herself with household duties in an attempt to quiet her gnawing fear. She stood on the second floor landing, spray bottle in hand getting ready to water the plants hanging over the railing. In the playroom, Lucien sat with Sasha as she was feeding him strawberries. She fed them to him and then looked at him deeply. She then looked at the scooter nearby.

On the highway, the tires squealed harshly as John turned onto the cloverleaf that spewed the vehicle onto M-40, the direct road home. John's face was taut with tension, his hands squeezing the wheel as the pavement blurred beneath him, his body straining with every fiber to urge the car forward. It zipped down the highway like a streak of beige lightning, passing other cars as though they were standing still. John was perspiring now, as each car ahead of him became a target to be overtaken. He blasted his horn, and each car made way as his car shot ahead. He thought of the police and glanced in the rearview mirror. And there he saw the ominous shape moving up behind him. It was another car, black and massive, following his every move. The car was a hearse. And it was gaining on him. And as John watched it coming up from behind, his face froze with fear.

At the estate, Lucien rode his scooter around upstairs fast. In the hallway, Alison stepped up on a chair to water the plants. Sasha sat in Lucien's room and stared as if she was the sheering force of willpower to go fast and Lucien accelerated, wild-eyed, his face filled with frenzy.

Within his car, John groaned with exertion, pushing the accelerator into the floor. The hearse was gaining on him, the face of the driver gazing coldly, directly ahead. John's speedometer was rising but the hearse kept coming, moving doggedly ahead. John was panting now and he knew his reasoning had left him, but he was powerless to stop. He could not be overtaken. The machinery of his car screamed beneath him, but the hearse kept coming, moving up alongside.

"NO…" John moaned. "No…..!"

And then they flew neck and neck, the hearse continuing to gain. John pounded his wheel, demanding his car move faster but the hearse was overtaking him, a coffin in the back moving slowly by.

In the Cena house, Lucien accelerated faster, his scooter careening wildly as it hurtled about the upstairs. Allie reached up tentatively from her perch on the chair.

On the highway, the hearse suddenly pulled farther ahead as John let out a bloodcurdling cry. And in that instant, Lucien shot around the corner and his scooter colliding with Alison, sending her flying from her chair.

"Lucien." She said as she fell over the railing. She held on by fingertips onto the railing. She looked up at Lucien with a terrified look. "Lucien, please help."

Lucien just looked at her as her hands slip from the railing. She screamed as she fell onto the floor below. Allie lay silent now and still. The red roses from the plants around her.

By the time John got to the hospital, the reporters were already there, shouting questions and popping flashbulbs in his eyes as he desperately pushed his way through to a door marked INTENSIVE CARE. He'd arrived home to find Sasha in a state of hysterics; she told him only that Allie had had a fall and was taken by ambulance to the hospital.

"Any word on her condition, Mr. Cena?" a reporter shouted.

John didn't reply as he made his way through a double door, the reporters' voices fading behind as he ran down the hall.

"Ambassador Cena?"

"How is she?" John said to the doctor who quickly walked toward him.

"She'll recover. But she has a concussion, broken collarbone and some internal bleeding."

"Internal Bleeding?"

"That's our biggest worry at the moment." The doctor said as they walked. They stopped in front of a door.

"She's pregnant." John replied.

"I'm afraid not." The doctor shook her head.

"She lost the child?"

"Yes."

The doctor pointed to the room where Allie was. John walked in and saw his wife in the bed. His face filled with shock. The sight of Allie was horrible. Her face was swollen, a tube from her arm led upward to the bag of plasma. Her arm was in a cast, grotesquely crooked. She seemed unconscious, her face devoid of life. He heard her moan and walked over to her.

"John." She whispered when she saw him.

"What is it baby?" He asked.

"Please don't' let him kill me."

"What?" John asked again he hadn't heard her. He leaned his head down to her mouth to hear her.

"Don't let him kill me." She whispered again. John rose up and looked at his wife who fell back asleep.

John arrived home after midnight and stood for a long time in the darkness of the downstairs foyer, gazing at the spot on the floor where Allie had landed. He felt numb, his body racked with exhaustion and he longed for sleep to wipe out the tragedy of what had occurred. Their life had changed now, unalterably; it was as though they were under a curse.

He thought again of the priest and his warning. "He'll kill the unborn child while it slumbers in the womb. Then he will kill your wife. Then when he is certain to inherit all that is yours…" He closed his eyes, trying to force it out of his mind. He thought of McIntyre, dead on a pole, of his unreasoning panic as the hearse overtook him on the highway. The psychiatrist was right. He was under a strain and his behavior proved it. Allie's fears had spread to him; her fantasies were somehow contagious. He could no longer allow it to happen. Now more than ever, he must be clear and rational.

Feeling physically weak, he moved to the stairs, climbing upward in darkness. He would sleep and in the morning awake refreshed, with renewed energy, able to deal with things. He walked toward Lucien's room wanting to see him. He was stopped when he saw and heard the dog growling. The dog he had told Sasha to get rid of it. It was now guarding his son's door. He stepped closer when he heard his cell phone ringing.

"Hello."

"Mr. Ambassador, my name is Randy Orton."

"Who?" John asked.

"I'm a photographer. You broke my camera."

"How did you get this number?" John asked into the phone ready to hang up.

"Please don't hang up, Mr. Cena." Randy said quickly. "This isn't about the camera. It's about you. And a priest. A McIntyre. A father McIntyre. You were seen with him moments before he was killed."

"What do you want?" John asked.

"Please come and meet me."

"Alright." John listened as Randy told him the address. He hung up and walked downstairs.

He looked up once more and then headed to his car. He had to meet with Randy and find out what he knew.

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	14. Chapter 14

Warning: Religious Mention.

* * *

><p>Randy's apartment was in the slum district and John had trouble finding it. It was raining, the visibility poor and he was about to give up when he spotted the infrared glow high in a turret above the street. He walked up to the apartment and sat down once he was in. Randy headed over to the desk and got out a photo.<p>

"You see anything unusual?" Randy asked him.

"No." John replied looking at the photo of Kelly, their first nanny, from Lucien's birthday party.

"Look here, here. Look see?" Randy pointed the vague haze that hung around her neck and head. "There. I didn't think much of it either at first. I thought it was just bad film but then it happened again. Here you see?"

Randy showed him a picture of the priest. "Our friend father McIntyre. Look at this here." Randy pointed out the hazy appendage that seemed to hang over the priest's head. "And here's one I snapped ten days later."

He shuffled to another photo and put it under a light and showed it to John. "It's a little more pronounced this time. If you envision the size of his face, you can see it's just about making contact with his head. In the ten days between the first picture and this one, it moved down. Whatever it is, it comes closer."

"Same thing." John replied.

"Yeah." Randy said getting a newspaper. He placed it on the table. "The rest of course is history."

John didn't quite understand and he was stunned. He looked at Randy.

"I know. I didn't get it either. Which is why I started digging." Randy got out some papers. "The coroner's report said that McIntyre was riddled with cancer. He was high on morphine most of the time. He was injecting himself two or three times a day."

"He knew he was dying." John replied.

"Apparently."

"He said he wanted to be forgiven by Christ." John said softly.

"No atheists in foxholes." Randy replied getting some more photos. "Here we go. Now externally. His body was completely normal. Apart from one small item here. On the inside of the left thigh. Here"

"What is it?"

"It's three sixes. Six hundred and sixty-six."

"A tattoo."

"No. the biopsy showed that that was a birthmark. Come with me. The best is yet to come."

They quickly made their way to an underground apartment. When they walked in, John saw pages from the Bible all over the room including the windows.

"He lived here." John replied.

"Yes, if you can call it living. These are all pages from bible, thousands of them. Every inch of wall space is covered." Randy saw John pick up a crucifix. "Yes and crucifixes.. Hundreds of crucifixes. I would say he was trying to keep something out, wouldn't you?"

"He was obviously out of his mind."

Randy looked at John. "Was he?" Randy took out a book from his bag. "The first thing I found was his diary. It wasn't' so much about him as it was about you. And it's a little obsessive. Notes on whenever you left the house, where you went, which restaurants you ate at, what your speaking engagements were."

"Let me see that please." John motioned for the book.

Randy handed the book to John. "You'll see that the last entry says that you were scheduled to meet him at bishop's park the same day he died." He got something else out of his bag. "However, the really interesting items are here. If we're ever going to get to the bottom of this, this is it. The first is a clipping from some astrology magazine a report of an unusual phenomenon. It's a comet that took the shape of a glowing star. Much like the star of Bethlehem 2000 years go. Only this one happened a little closer to home on the European continent. Just five years ago. June the 6th to be exact. I assume that date rings a bell."

"Yes." John said softly.

"Yeah. Then you'll recognize the second clipping." Randy handed John the paper. "A birth announcement from a newspaper in Rome. Again five years ago sixth day, sixth month."

John's hands were trembling now; the papers fluttering.

"Was your son born at 6am?"

"My son's dead." John whispered. "I don't know whose son I'm raising."

"Well if you don't mind, Mr. Cena." Randy said quietly. "I'd like to try and help you find that out."

"No. it's my problem." John said getting up.

"No, no, no, no please please. You're wrong." Randy got up and took out a photo. "You see it's also my problem. See when I first came into the room with the police. I took a number of photographs and I happened to catch a reflection of myself in this mirror here. Take a look."

John's eyes moved to the photo, his face registering in shock.

"That's rather an unusual effect, isn't' it?" Randy replied.

He swung the bare bulb closer to John so he could see more clearly. There, in the photograph of McIntyre's room, was a small mirror in far the corner, reflecting Randy with the camera poised in the front of his face. There was nothing unusual about a photographer catching his own reflection in a mirror but in this case, there was something missing. It was Randy's neck, the head separated by a blemish of haze from his body.

"All right. Let's go. Get your stuff." John motioned for him. They headed out of the priest's apartment quickly.

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	15. Chapter 15

On the following morning the news of Alison's injury made it easy for John to excuse himself from the office for the next few days. He told his staff he was going to Rome to find a bone specialist on Allie's behalf; in truth, he was going on a different kind of mission. Having told the whole story to the photographer, he had been convinced by Randy to start at the beginning to return to the hospital where Lucien was born. There they would begin putting together the pieces.

The trip was arranged quickly, without fanfare, John hiring a private jet in order to depart from London and arrive in Rome on runways blocked to public access. In the hours before their departure, Randy busied himself in gathering research material; several versions of the Bible, three books on the occult. John had told Sasha he would be leaving for a few days. He then drove to the hospital. He talked to Allie's doctor and then headed to her room to see her.

"I'll be back as soon as I can. I'm sorry." John said to her as he sat by her bed. He saw her start to tear up. "No. Hey, hey, hey."

"I'm so scared." She said to him as tears started.

"Allie. There's nothing to be scared of." He said stroking her cheek. "Nothing. I promise." He kissed her on the head and left to go to Rome.

The plane touched down with a jolt. Randy grabbed for his books as they fell in disarray around him. It was raining in Rome, the thunder rumbling ominously above them. Moving quickly through the empty airport, they made it to a waiting cab; they rode in silence as they passed the lighted statuary of the Via Veneto. John remembered how he and Allie, once young and full of hope, wandered hand in hand down these very streets. They were innocent and in love; he remembered the smell of her perfume and the sound of her laughter. They discovered Rome in the way that Columbus discovered America. They claimed it as their own. They made love in the afternoon here. Now, as John gazed into the night, he wondered if they would make love ever again.

"Ospedale Generale." The cabdriver said as he came to an abrupt stop.

Randy and John got out of the car and looked at it.

"This isn't it." John said.

"It's the right address." Randy replied.

"Ah." The driver replied. "Fuoco. Tre anni piu o meno."

"Apparently there was a terrible fire. The old hospital burned down." John said turning to Randy.

"Multo morte."

"Five years ago. Many dead."

John looked over at the plaza nearby and saw a nun there. He and Randy headed over to her.

"Excusi." John said to her. He explained things to her and she told of what happened to the hospital.

"The fire started in the hall of records, in the basement. It went up like a torch shot up the stairwells. The third floor became an inferno."

"The third floor?" John asked.

"The maternity ward." Randy replied.

John thought for a minute. "There was a priest. Not very tall. He was in charge."

"Cole."

"Yes." John nodded. "That's his name. That's him. Do you know where he is now?"

"A monastery in Subiaco."

"Subiaco."

They rented a car and headed toward it. They stopped a little while later for some coffee and something to eat.

"I haven't found this poem you talked about. But I have a good idea where it's from. It seems to be a composite of prophecies taken from the bible. From the book of Daniel. From the book of revelation. The time of the antichrist is heralded by the Jews returning to Israel."

"That's the poem." John replied. "When the Jews return to Zion." And something about a comet."

"That's here. A great star, blazing like a torch fell from the sky. Now these are signs together with the rise of the Roman Empire which signify the birth of the antichrist. As we know the Jews have returned to Zion. We've seen evidence of a comet. The rise of the roman empire that's oh"

"The Treaty of Rome." John said. "The European union"

Randy continued to read the Bible. "Revelation 13: "and I stood upon the sand of the sea and saw a beast rise up out of the sea."

"That's the poem again: from the eternal sea. He rises creating army on either shore."

"Now the sea, bear with me, the sea in this context has been interpreted as representing politics. The sea which eternally rages with conflict, with turmoil, with revolution—politics." Randy said as they sat there. "From the eternal sea he rises. The devil's child shall rise from the world of politics." He looked at John. "They chose you John."

John was speechless. They finished up and headed toward the monastery. They waited on the shore and soon a boat came to take them to the monastery. A monk there showed them where Father Cole was. They walked closer. The priest was dressed in a robe and had a hood over his head.

"Father Cole. My name's John Cena. We met in Rome. You remember me?" John said kneeling down. "There was a child. I need to know where he's from."

"I'm afraid it's no use." The monk said to them. "We don't know if he can see or hear. He is fed and cared for by the brothers. And we pray for his recovery when his penance in complete."

"Penance?" John asked.

"Woe to the Shepherd who abandons his sheep. May his right arm wither and his right eye lose its sight."

"He's fallen from grace?" John asked.

"Yes."

"May I ask why?"

"For abandoning Christ."

"How do you know he's abandoned Christ?"

"Confession."

"But he doesn't speak."

"Written confession."

John turned again to the priest. "You said you knew his mother. Where is she now?"

"Please sir." The monk said.

"Where is she?"

"I must insist."

Cole looked up at the monk and then back to John. John looked at him.

"You confessed to them now confess to me. Where is she now?"

Cole carefully removed his hood. John and Randy were shocked by his appearance. Half of his face was literally melted; the eye was opaque and stared blindly upward. The right hand was also grotesquely deformed, protruding from a sackcloth sleeve like a smooth, glistening stump. Cole motioned for a pen and the monk handed it to him. He slowly started to write something on a note pad.

"Cervet? What does it mean?" John asked the monk.

"Cervedri. It's an old cemetery from the Etruscan time. Greppe Sant' Angelo."

"Where is this place?" John asked. The monk was quiet. John looked at him and asked him again. "Where is it?"

"You'll find it on a map. It's perhaps 50 kilometer north of Rome."

They left the monastery and headed for the cemetery. Not knowing what they would find when they got there.

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	16. Chapter 16

They arrived at Cerveteri. Before them stood a spiked iron fence and just beyond it, tombstones silhouetted against the faintly lightening sky. They got out of the car and got out the flashlights they would need to look around. They climbed over and were soon in the cemetery. They began to look around. The half-headed gargoyles came into view and John was unnerved as he eyed them. There was a kind of stillness there that he had experienced before, a suspended silence as though the atmosphere itself were holding its breath. It was at the estate that he had first felt it, the night he saw the eyes staring back from the forest. He paused now, fearing he was once again being watched. His eyes scanned the statuary, coming to rest on a massive cross planted upside down in the ground. He stiffened. From somewhere behind the cross came the sound.

"John, I found it." Randy said from behind him.

They headed over to the two graves; dug close together side by side. Unlike the others in the cemetery these were fairly recent; one full-sized, the other small, the headstones unadorned, bearing only names and dates.

"See the dates?" Randy asked. "June sixth. Five years ago. A mother and a child."

"Maria Avadicci Santoya." John said reading the name. "Lucien's mother."

"But if that's her, then who's the child?" Randy shined his light on it.

"Hand me that iron." John said kneeling down. He started digging around the tombstone. "Try to free up those edges." He said to Randy. "It's coming."

They both strained as they moved the tombstones. They looked inside the grave.

"What the fuck is this?" Randy said when he saw the animal carcass inside. The carcass of a jackal.

"The priest. He said it its mother was a" John said not finishing it.

"Was a what?"

"The other one." John said quickly moving to it. He started to dig to remove the tombstone.

"What for? There's nothing there." Randy said to him.

"But if it's an animal then maybe he's alive somewhere." John said.

"Who?" Randy asked.

"My son." John said as he removed the tombstone. Inside the grave were the remains of a human child, its delicate skull smashed.

"My god." Randy replied.

John sobbed when he saw it. "They killed him." He said softly. "They took him from her and they killed him."

John didn't have time to react as a black dog attacked him. Randy stumbled back and was soon trying to fight off a dog of his own. John managed to kick the dog off that was attacking him and ran to help Randy. He picked up a cross nearby and hit the dog causing it to let go of Randy. Both ran toward the fence and quickly made their way over it. Just as they were, a dog bit into John's arm. He screamed as he tried to get it off. Randy tried to help by hitting at the dog. John hit the dog in the nose and Randy helped him remove his jacket. They were soon safe on the other side of the fence.

Sasha held Lucien's hand as she entered the hospital. They made their way up to the intensive care floor. As they were walking down the hall, Sasha saw a nurse coming out of Allie's room.

"Excuse me. I'm the family nanny here to spread a bit of cheer." Sasha said happily.

"Oh I just have her nighttime meds. She barely awake." The nurse said sweetly.

"I understand. I wonder if I could see her just for a few minutes."

"Well no I'm sorry I can't." The nurse shook her head.

"Her son picked these out himself. He'd be heartbroken if she didn't get them. I promised him." Sasha said to her. The nurse looked at Lucien who looked heartbroken not able to see his mother.

"Well I'm not sure if he should see her like this."

"Okay, I'll park him over here." Sasha said walking over to the nearby bench. She had Lucien sit down. "There you go. I'll be back in a minute, sweetie."

Sasha quietly walked into Allie's room. She looked at Allie in the bed mostly asleep. She placed some flowers in the vase nearby. And walked over to Allie's bed.

"Hi. It's only me. Don't be afraid." She said softly to her. Allie was barely awake.

Randy walked into the room as John tried to call Allie's cell phone.

"We have to find the town father McIntyre mentioned." Randy said walking over where John was.

"Megiddo" John replied to him as he waited for someone to pick up.

"I'll get a hold of some maps." Randy said leaving the room.

"Come on. Come on pick up the goddamn phone."

Sasha stood over Allie's bed. She heard the vibration of the phone on the night stand. She took out the syringe and filled it with air. She calmly walked over to the IV and punctured the tube with the needle and injected the air into it.

"No, no" Allie cried softly.

"Shh good girl. Almost there." Sasha said as she watched the air bubble through the tube and the monitor that was monitoring Allie's heart rate.

When she saw the air bubble was close, she put her hand over Allie's mouth to keep her from screaming. She heard the heart monitor beeping and she turned it off. She held her hand over Allie's mouth until Allie stop breathing. Sasha bent down and kissed her on the cheek to make sure Allie was dead. She looked into Allie's blue eyes that were open with fear. She knew Allie was dead. She walked back out of the room and took Lucien's hand. "Come along sweetie. All done."

John was fixing the bandage on his arm when heard his phone. He quickly made his way to answer it. He saw it was Evan.

"Hello. Evan, listen I just tried. Are you with Allie?" He heard Evan tell him that Allie was dead. "But I just. No sh, she"

John dropped the phone and heard Evan as he placed it down. "I'm sorry John. I tried calling." But John didn't hear anymore. He was stunned that his wife was dead. John fell into a deep sleep and was awaken by an awful dream in which he remembered how happy Allie was when he placed Lucien in her arms and then the visions of Lucien holding an IV bag and the Priest, Cole, laughing.

"What the hell happened to you? Did you fall asleep?" Randy asked when he walked in.

"Yeah." John answered softly.

"No wonder. You've been staying awake." Randy replied sitting down on the other bed. "I found out about the town of Megiddo. It's derived from the word Armageddon. The end of the world. It's underground just south of Jerusalem. There's an excavation going on there. Some American university. I don't suppose you remember that name."

"Callaway."

"Callaway" Randy repeated.

"That was his name. I remember the poem too. When the Jews return to Zion, when a comet fills the sky, when the Holy Roman Empire rises, then you and I must die. From the eternal sea he rises. Creating armies on either shore. Turning man against his brother till man exists no more." John said softly. He looked at Randy. "Allie's dead. I want Lucien dead as well."

Randy nodded. He knew the fact that Allie was dead was killing John. He hoped they could get the answers they needed.

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	17. Chapter 17

Randy and John drove the next day to Meggido. They were stop outside Jerusalem by armed soldiers. Randy and John showed the men their IDs and papers. They were waved through and drove on. They soon arrived at Meggido. They began to ask around about Callaway. They were showed an underground walk way. They started down the dark walk way and found a man. He was tall with long dark hair.

"Callaway." John said as they walked in.

"Is the priest, McIntyre dead yet?" Mark Callaway asked.

"Yes."

"We have work to do. Come on." Mark motioned for them. They walked to a table where Mark unrolled a canvas tarp with knives. The knives were thin and ivory-handled; each handle was carved into the form of Christ on the cross. "It must be done on hallowed ground in the grounds of a church. The blood must be split on the altar of god." Mark picked out the first knife and showed it to them. His words were punctuated with silence as he studied John, making certain he understood. "Each knife must be buried up to the hilt. And then set so as to form the sign of a cross." Mark handed this one to John. "The first knife is the most important. For it extinguishes physical life. And sets the center of the cross. The subsequent knives extinguish spiritual life. And radiate outwards."

"This is a child we're talking about." John said softly. "A small boy who I've raised as my own son."

"He's not your son." Mark yelled. "He's a beast, a beast! He's evil incarnate. Now don't' you forget that!"

"What if you're wrong? What if he isn't?" John asked.

"I'm not wrong."

"How do I know that?"

"Look. He bears a birthmark." Mark replied. "A sequence of 6's so say the bible as do all the apostles of Satan"

"No he doesn't have it." John shook his head.

"He must have it."

"I have bathed him." John said. "I know everything inch of him. He doesn't have it."

"If the sign isn't visible then it must be hidden beneath the hair. Remove that and you'll find the number."

"What about the woman, the nanny?" Randy asked.

"Ah, she's an apostate of hell. She'll die before permitting this." Mark looked at John who looked shocked by finally realizing what he would have to do. "Yeah."

"No." John shook his head. "No it's insane. All of you" He walked toward the opening to the street. "Oh my god."

"Look don't lose your nerve now, man." Mark yelled as John walked out. "We'll all be in the cesspool if you do."

Mark turned too looked at Randy. Randy grabbed the tarp with the knives and headed out to find John.

"Stop. John stop." Randy said running up to meet him. "You can't just walk away from this. What fuck did you think he was gonna say. Why else have we come here?"

"He's an insane delusional drunk and like every other religious fanatic thinks that arcane scripture justifies killing." John said as he walked.

"What about me?" Randy asked.

"What about you?" John asked him.

"What about the photographs. What if I'm next?"

"Listen to yourself. Do you have any idea of what you're saying? You're asking me to stab a child. A little boy." John said taking the tarp from Randy. "Cant' you see how insane that is? It's not real Randy. There is no devil. There is no god. There is only here and now and life. And that is something I would never take away from any man certainly not my own son."

John hurled the tarp of knives and they hit a wall and bounced into an alley.

"Well if you won't, I will." Randy replied to him. He quickly made his way down the stairs of the alley. He picked up the knives and placed them back in tarp.

Up above him on a nearby roof, workers were working. One's foot hit a nearby hammer causing it to fall from above and hit a fire escape ladder. The ladder came loose from the railing and swung down catching Randy just above the collar, neatly severing his head from his body.

John heard the impact and then ran to the alley. He was shocked when he saw Randy's body lying there. He forced himself to pick up the knives and leave. He knew what he had to do.

The return flight to London had taken eight hours; John sat in a dazed silence, his mind refusing to function. The fires that had once sparked thought had now been extinguished. There was no more fear, no more grief, no more confusion; only the mindless knowledge of what had to be done.

The house came into view as John drove up the driveway. He stared up in silence at the house that once contained the people he loved. There was not a single light within, not a sound, and John's mind tortured him with fleeting images of the events that had once gone on here. He saw Allie in the garden, playing with her child, Kelly laughing as she watched. He saw the veranda filled with people and the sound of laughter. Mercifully, the visions faded and he became aware only of his own heartbeat, the sensation of blood coursing through his veins.

He walked into the kitchen and quietly grabbed some scissors. He accidentally hit a glass but caught it before it fell to the ground. The door creaked and slammed shut. He heard the dog growling and ran for the pantry. He heard the dog running fast down the stairs and to the kitchen. John quickly lifted up the lid to the basement and the dog hit the door and fell into it. John then made his way up the stairs to Lucien's room.

He prayed that he would find the room empty because the woman had taken him away. But he could hear the sounds of their breathing. He quietly opened the door to Lucien's room and walked in. He walked over to the bed and sat down on it. He looked at Lucien sleeping peacefully. He began to cut the hair. Slowly he uncovered the birthmark. Three sixes.

John backed away from the bed only to have Sasha jump on his back. He desperately tried to shake her. She screamed waking Lucien who screamed as well. John managed to get Sasha off his back. He quickly grabbed Lucien and headed for the door. Sasha reached out and grabbed his leg. He managed to kick her in the face.

He ran downstairs with Lucien in arms screaming. He made his way to the car and placed Lucien inside. He put the key in the ignition and put the car in gear. He barely could react when Sasha smashed the window. John quickly put the car in reverse hitting things all around him. He placed the car drive and started out. He saw Sasha standing in the middle of the driveway holding a metal pole. He gunned the engine and ran her over killing her. He busted through the gate and headed to a church. Behind him, the guards began to follow.

John drove quickly toward a church. Behind him police cars had joined the guards. "Patrol to tango one-six. Take command and control."

Inside the car, John held Lucien down as he drove. Lucien screamed no over and over again. John soon pulled into the church. He grabbed Lucien and the knives and headed in with Lucien kicking and screaming the whole the time.

John laid Lucien on the alter and took out the first knife. He held Lucien down with the other hand. "Our father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name thy kingdom come thy will be done. On earth as it is in heaven." John looked up at the picture of Christ. "Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses. As we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation."

He held the knife up toward the sky ready to bring it down. "Please daddy don't." Lucien said looking into John's eyes.

"Stop!" A police said moving forward as John held the knife above his head. A shot was heard simultaneously with Lucien's scream.

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	18. Chapter 18

This is the final chapter of this story. I hope you have enjoyed it. It was meant to be a short one for Halloween. Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, alerted, and favorited this one. You guys are awesome!

Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or the wrestlers in this story. I own only my ocs. This story is fiction and is to be taken that way. No copyright infringement intended.

Based on the movie: The Omen.

* * *

><p>The news of the tragedy spread quickly through London, then onto wire services across the world. The story was confused, the details conflicting, and for forty-eight hours reporters crowded the waiting room at the hospital, questioning doctors in an attempt to find out what happened and how. On the morning of the second day a group of hospital spokesmen filed into the room, waiting for televisions cameras to start grinding before issuing their statement. It was a South African doctor who had been flown in for specialized surgery from Groote Schuur Hospital in Cape Town who made the final announcement.<p>

"I would like to announce that death came at eight-thirty a.m. this morning. Every effort was made to salvage life, but the wound was such that its damage was irreparable."

A moan of sorrow went up from the assembled reporters, and the doctor waited until all was quiet.

"There will be no further announcements at this time Memorial services will be conducted at All Saints Church where the tragic incident occurred... the body will then be returned to the United States for interment."

In New York City the line of limousines was waiting at JFK, the two caskets lowered into a single hearse that bore them to the cemetery on a crowded highway; motorcycle policemen forged the way. The cemetery was mobbed by the time they arrived; the curious and the mournful were held back by security guards as the official burial party was led to the open graves. A priest in flowing white robe officiate beneath the stanchion of an American flag, and taps was played as the coffins were placed upon the straps, a maintenance man testing the machinery and lowering them slightly just before the eulogy began.

"We grieve together today." The priest intoned. "For the untimely deaths of our brethren, two among us, who take a part of us with them as they travel onward into eternity? Let us grieve not for them who now go to their rest, but for ourselves who will miss them. No matter how short a life, it is a life complete, and we must be grateful for the brief time they spent among us."

The crowd was silent, some of them weeping, others shading their eyes from the sun.

"We say goodbye to the son of a great man born into wealth and security into every earthly benefit a human being could possibly have. But in this example, we see that earthly benefits are not enough."

Outside the cemetery gates, reporters watched and photographed through telephoto lenses. Among them, a small group stood apart, pondering the confusion of the reported events that had led them here.

"Weird one huh?"

"What's so weird?"

"What were they doing at the church at that hour?"

"His wife died. Maybe they were going to pray."

"What kind of sickies would commit murder in a church?"

"The world's full of 'em. Believe me."

At the gravesite the two caskets were being slowly lowered, the priest raising his arms to the sky. Among the assembled mourners were the figures of a couple who stood apart from the rest, surrounded by men in plainclothes, whose eyes furtively roamed the crowd. It was a man, dignified and stately, a woman in a black veil at his side, holding the hand of a five year old boy whose arm was cradled in a sling.

"And as we commit John and Alison Cena to their eternal rest." The priest said. "We turn our eyes to their child, Lucien, the sole survivor of this once great family, now moving into the household of another. May he prosper in the love they have to give, may he assume the legacy of his father and become a leader of mankind."

From his position near the graves, Lucien watched the two caskets descend, holding tight to the hand of the woman at his side.

"And lastly, to you, Lucien Cena. May God bestow his blessings and graces may Christ bestow his eternal love."

From a cloudless sky came a distant rumble of thunder and the crowd slowly began to disperse. The couple surrounded by plainclothes waited until everyone had left, then approached the graves, the child kneeling before them in prayer. The crowds turned and watched many weeping openly; the child finally rose and, with his new parents, moved slowly away.

"Mr. President your car is ready sir." One of the plainclothes told the man.

As they walked away, a reporter snapped photographs of the child's face as it stared back at them through the rear window of the departing automobile. For all the photographs would be marred by a blemish, a flaw in the film emulsion creating haze that hung over car. The child smiled slightly as the car disappeared from view.

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